


Every Night's Our Night

by Jakixarv



Series: Jakixarv's take on trans Reggie Peters [2]
Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Gen, Nonbinary Character, Trans Male Character, can somebody say PROJECTION, reggie is also definitely adhd, reggie learns about the trans pride flag, tbh oc is also adhd they are Vibing, the oc is very self-insert but tbh i'm thinking about stuff thru everyone, they toured and it was great, this sure is based on me seeing frank iero and against me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28429455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jakixarv/pseuds/Jakixarv
Summary: Reggie's out and about, curious about what new music there's been in the 25 years he's been absent.  A show at a favourite venue catches his eye, interesting groups and, apparently, more interesting fans.Meeting a new friend and learning more about how things have changed?
Relationships: Alex Mercer & Luke Patterson & Reggie Peters (Julie and The Phantoms), Reggie Peters & Original Character
Series: Jakixarv's take on trans Reggie Peters [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2079228
Comments: 5
Kudos: 47





	Every Night's Our Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hello if anyone remembers Frank Iero and the Cellabration touring with Against Me! way back when in 2015, I kind of brought that show into a fic. To the person proudly waving their trans flag at that show: fuck yeah, go you. Hope you're doing well.

One of the nicer things about being invisible and intangible (most of the time), was being able to sneak into shows without paying.

Reggie had just noticed the show when looking through the website of one of his favourite venues, under a _featured_ heading. Navigating websites was still new territory for him, but most of the ones he’d seen so far had pretty good “UI,” as he’d heard Carlos call it once.

Moving through the crowd and venue at his own pace was a nice bonus. It wasn’t packed, really, but full enough that there was only breathing room at the back, near the bar.

The first band was already playing, Reggie noticed with a wince, though he had barely noticed their name listed on the ticket as well. He hadn’t _wanted_ to come late, but it was a _Saturday_. Things at the Molinas were getting more and more chill, and Reggie couldn’t miss a good family dinner. Sure, most of the family couldn’t see him, but things were chill. He’d get through to Ray yet.

Reggie bobbed his head along to the music, though the acoustics of the room with the groups rough tones and discordant playing made it hard to make out the lyrics. But he’d always had a problem with that.

After a few songs the front of the band shouted out the group’s name. Reggie patted himself down for a scrap of paper and pencil. He should have these on him at _all times_ , if Luke had taught him anything. If his scattered brain had taught him anything, really.

Well, if his scattered brain hadn’t immediately caused him to forget each lesson the minute it happened. He’d made peace with it.

A new vantage point would be nice for the next band, though any closer to the stage would have him more inside a person than out, and Reggie didn’t think that would be fun for anyone involved.

He eventually settled on the wall dividing the upper landing of the venue from the lower—which wasn’t _quite_ a pit, but he figured people made do. The wall was high enough from the lower floor that his swinging feet wouldn’t clip anyone’s head. Not to mention no one could even see him to tell him off.

Until there was a _very solid_ hand on his shoulder than nearly had him falling backward onto the ground.

“Whoa, shit, sorry,” came the voice from behind him, “I tried calling out to you, but…you know,” Reggie scrambled to right himself, turning to face the source of the voice.

The person must have been ghost, unless—well, Reggie didn’t want to start exploring the myriad possibilities of psychics right that moment, so the person must have been a ghost. Sporting some kind of dyed hair and leather jacket and flannel and black jeans had Reggie looking appreciatively already, ends of a crop top fraying with consistent wear. They were dressed for the show, he guessed. But it wasn’t a bad _all-the-time_ look. Obviously.

“Yeah, yeah,” he finally managed, “bit loud. And my ears aren’t what they used to be.” After a minute to let that one settle, Reggie gestured at the open space next to him on the wall, which they took with a grin.

“You here for Frank Iero?” they almost-shouted, and Reggie blinked, before remembering that was the name of the first headliner. So _that_ was how you pronounced it.

“I guess?” He said. “It’s been a while since I’ve caught up on any…music.” _Or anything at all_ , he added silently. “Sorry, don’t mean to be rude,” he started before he could talk himself out of it, “but just making sure—you’re a _ghost,_ right?”

They cocked their head, “I mean, yeah,” they shrugged, as if the _seeing each other_ factor was enough proof. That wasn’t an _offended_ expression on their face, was it? Reggie hoped he imagined the sweat trickling down the back of his neck.

“Sorry, just, still new here. Ghost thing. Rules are still fuzzy.” Rules were still bending and breaking left and right, if anything Willie told Alex was worth going by. He’d tried not to worry too much about it.

“Oh, totally, man, no worries. Yeah. I get it,” they looked guilty, then, before trying, “well, I don’t know what you’re looking for music wise, but this is a bit more rough and hardcore than the group he was with before.” When Reggie raised his eyebrows, nodding as if he knew what group that was, they said, “which, would make more sense if there was a universal understanding of what _their_ sound was like. Umm, okay, think rough pedal tones, yelling, raw emotion stuff. You know Black Flag?” _There_ was a band he knew, “short, expressive, drawing on a lot of inner turmoil stuff. At least, his album _Stomachaches_ was.” They blinked, again, before a mortified expression dawned on their face, “and I told you all of this without you asking, big asshole move. Sorry.”

Reggie didn’t mind, honestly refreshed to a. have a new friend to talk to that could talk back, b. they were polite and seemed engaging, and c. they were excited to talk about music. He should probably tell them that out loud. “You’re all good. I’m kind of just stumbling into whatever shows I can find. I remember I used to come to this place all the time when I was—well, way back when.” He frowned. _No need to bring down the mood, Reginald_. “Well, either way, it’s been a while and I’m testing the waters.”

They nodded, “I feel that. Oh!” They rolled their eyes, “I’m Dan, by the way. Totally forgot to introduce myself.”

He grinned, “Reggie, pleasure.” Should he go for a handshake? He settled for a small wave. “I, uh, really only saw this featured on the website, which, like—some of these venues could at least invest in making their websites nice to use. The samples they had of each song barely played, the audio… _thing_ made so little sense to me.”

Dan laughed, “tell me about it. User-friendly web design? Never heard of her.”

“Internet sure has changed from what it used to be. Too many bright buttons that don’t do anything and not enough bare text.”

They shot him a curious look, then, before smirking and saying, “you like what you hear, at least?”

Before he could say anything in the affirmative, the lights went out to a rise of screams and cheers. He nodded several times, hoping Dan saw it in the light from the stage.

It all began with a bang, erupting immediately into fast-paced and harsh chords and _emotion_ from everyone on stage.

The energy was infectious, really, the frontman and drummer especially having some kind of intense chemistry. His suspicion was confirmed a few songs in when Frank especially introduced him, with several colourful (and hopefully affectionately-placed) monikers. Ah, friendship.

They gave a shout-out to the next band, _Against Me!_ , as well as the opening group, before announcing their final song.

It was then that Reggie saw it.

Toward the back of the crowd in the lower landing, someone held up a square of fabric, fisted in both hands. Light streamed through it to make the _blue pink white_ obvious. Reggie had seen enough of the rainbow to connect the dots to _pride_ , but he’d never seen a flag like that before.

It made him feel a bit silly, that it hadn’t occurred to him there would be other flags. That he hadn’t done any research.

And then Dan was shouting beside him: “ _Fuck yeah! Trans rights!”_ and it hit like a kick to the chest.

Reggie could feel his face heating up, the gleeful cheer settling over him like a warm blanket, filling him with something he’d probably call _hope_. 

“Hey, Reggie, you okay?” Dan had noticed he’d frozen, staring over at them.

“I—I, uh, yeah, I…that flag is for…? It’s for _trans_ pride?” He knew he was probably right on what _trans_ was, as like, an adjective, but it had been a _long_ time since…

“Yeah, it is!” They smiled reassuringly, “though there’s loads of others that all sort of fit under the umbrella of, like, being _trans_.”

“Trans…gender,” he said, to confirm, and Dan nodded. “I, uh, sorry,” he held a hand up to cover his nose and mouth, could feel the sting of tears threatening to spill out, “I may have told you already, it’s—it’s been a while since I’ve been, um, out and about,” he barely finished the sentence before he was hunching into a sob.

“Oh, shoot, hey,” Dan scooted closer to put an arm around his shoulders, leather and soft flannel and hard metal of buttons and clasps grounding Reggie in the moment, reminding him that he was at least conscious to experience this. Because that was _him_ , there were people out there like _him_ , fighting for _him_. “You’re here, you’re all right. You wanna go—somewhere else?” They almost shouted because the level of talk rose again at the start of the interval.

With a _nod_ , they were blinking out of the venue and onto the marquee outside, lights and rusted metal and _alone_. Dan’s arms were nice, pressing their bodies together, a line of warmth. Reggie gave a wet smile. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” they said. Reggie leaned his head on their shoulder, slowly. He felt their hand come up to rest against the side of his head.

He sighed. “I died in 1995, but…I didn’t come back until this year,” he said, hoping that would be enough to explain the big points to this near-stranger. Hopefully the answering sigh of understanding meant he bet right.

“Shit’s changed a lot,” they said, earning a short laugh from Reggie—as much as he could laugh through the gross crying his face was doing.

“You can say that again.”

“Shit’s _changed._ ” They said again, “a _lot_ ,” this time they laughed too, moving to squeeze Reggie’s shoulder.

“For the better?” He asked, ducking to rest his forehead on his knees.

Dan was quiet for a few seconds, before saying, “yeah, for the better. A lot to worry about still, but there’s folk out there still fighting for each other. There’s hope.”

Reggie thought back to that day in the music room where he’d told Luke, and later Alex. Where Alex had told _them_. He thought about Julie, letting them stay, letting them in, letting them _help_. And helping them in turn.

Having people out there to fight for you was _everything_.

“I’m Reggie,” he sniffled, “and I’m a boy.”

A chuckle and another squeeze to his shoulder. “Fuck yeah, you are,” Dan said.

With every breath a weight Reggie barely noticed he’d still been carrying slipped away to leave the things he’d been working for since he decided at 7 that his name wasn’t quite right, or at 12 when all the changes they’d told him about in school felt so _wrong_ , or when he was 15 and meeting Luke and Alex and Bobby and finding out what family he wanted. He was _right_ , everything he was was _right_ , and he could be _proud_ , and he could _have hope_.

“I think,” he put out his hands to get to his feet, holding out an arm for Dan to take, “that I’m ready to go rock out.”

“Glad to hear it,” they said, “I think you’re really gonna like the last band,” they continued with a soft smile.

Reggie _poof_ ed back into the Molina’s garage to find Luke sitting with his guitar, and Alex browsing on an iPad that he must have lifted from Carlos for a while.

Luke looked up at his friend’s flushed, smiling face, and asked, “good night?”

“Yeah!” He shouted, probably a bit too loud. Cranking the volume down, he stage-whispered, “sorry, loud show. Good night! Yes!”

They took in the glitter that was smeared across his cheeks, and couldn’t help but grin in return.

“Met a new friend, too! We already made plans to see another show, if you two wanna come along?”

“New friend?” Alex cocked his head, “like…”

“Like a ghost, yeah, yeah,” Reggie waved him off.

“I’m always down to go out, so long as nothing else is going on, yeah,” Luke said.

“And they told me—about—they taught me about the trans pride flag!” He said, forcing past the lump in his throat that still sat there whenever he wanted to _talk_ about it. “We’ve got pride! And people out there like…well, like _me_. People out there fighting for people like me.”

Luke looked stunned, really, and Alex too, smiles growing and shining when Reggie’s words sunk in. “Shit, dude, that’s awesome!”

“I know, right?” He nodded, bouncing on his feet, and rushed forward to dive in between them, snagging an arm around each of their necks to bring them into a hug.

Luke quickly set the guitar aside and Alex was already wrapping as many limbs as he could around them all, and Reggie couldn’t help but say, “I love you guys.”

“We love you too, Reggie.”

“Of course we do, man.”

Here, in the arms of his best friends, his _family_.

Ready to face the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you liked it!  
> You can find me on tumbo @ gracefulsinkingships and instagram @ kirrjaava


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